Page 70 of Jenna's Protector
I nod against his chest, not trusting myself to speak. He pulls me closer, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, letting hisfamiliar scent and the steady beat of his heart soothe my frayed nerves.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His words are gentle, a lifeline in the darkness. His fingers comb through my tangled hair, soothing me—erasing my fears.
I take a shuddering breath and recount the dream, my voice trembling as I describe the suffocating darkness of the isolation room, the cruel indifference in Lucian’s eyes, and the terror of being strapped to that table. Carter listens patiently, his jaw clenching with barely contained anger.
“You’re safe now.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his promise fierce.
I want to believe him, but the nightmares feel like a warning, a reminder that my past is never far behind.
As dawn breaks, Carter and I begin our morning routine. He’s stayed at my place every night since we met with the Guardians, and he’s not alone. Max, his loyal German Shepherd, is here too, following us around the apartment, his tail wagging with quiet contentment.
Carter has Max guarding me during the day, a silent protector who brings a sense of security to my battered soul.
What I love best are our mornings.
The domesticity of it all—brewing coffee, sharing a quick breakfast, stealing kisses between bites—feels good.
Carter and Max’s presence transforms these simple moments into something precious, making me feel safe and cherished.
“Are you sure you’re okay with going to the café today?” Carter asks, concern etching his features as he buttons his shirt. “After last night… I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”
I give him a reassuring smile, even as the remnants of the nightmare linger in the shadows of my mind.
“I’ll be alright. They’re just dreams. With everything that’s happened recently, with opening up about my past—it’s not surprising they’ve resurfaced.” I rub absently at the hidden tattoo on the inside of my wrist.
In the years since it was placed, I blocked out the memory, completely forgetting about the table, the straps, and the sting of the needle.
Sentinel Nine.
It’s hard to believe I was that man’s ninth acquisition.
Carter pulls me close, his strong arms wrapping me in the security of his embrace. His gaze conveys incredible compassion and understanding.
“If you change your mind, if you need me, I’m just a phone call away.”
“I know.” I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “But you have important work to do with the Guardians. I’ve given you all the images and sketches I have. My part in this case is done, which means I can forget about it and focus on what matters.”
In other words, I spend my days trying to bury that part of my past. If my nightmares are any indication of how successful that is, then I’m doing a piss poor job of it.
“I don’t like being separated from you.” Carter’s gaze softens.
“Malia’s been holding down the fort at the café for too long. It’s time for me to return to some semblance of normalcy.”
With a final embrace and a promise to check in throughout the day, Carter heads out to continue his collaboration with the Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists. Max whines softly as the door closes behind Carter, and I give the dog a comforting pat.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, buddy.” Max’s tail thumps against the floor in response. “Let’s get this day started.”
We walk the few blocks to the café. Max stays by my side, following Carter’s orders to protect me. The moment I step through the doorway to my domain, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the warmth of the ovens chase away any lingering fear from my nightmares.
The familiar routine of brewing coffee and baking scones helps to ground me, and soon, I’m lost in the comforting bustle of the morning rush.
Around mid-morning, a man walks into the café. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a neatly trimmed beard and dark piercingeyes. His well-tailored suit and polished shoes speak of refinement and wealth. When he approaches the counter, his deep, cultured voice sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.
“Two large coffees, please.”
Something in his voice is vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
I ring up his order and set about preparing his coffee. As I work, he watches me, his gaze assessing and intense—intrusive even.